Shooting pleasures Ok’d by My being seen For Or as

The doll told me to exist. It said, “Hypnotize yourself.” It said time would be transfixed.

If sadness is akin to patience, we’re back! Pattern recognition was our first response

A career in vestige management. A dream job back—engineering shifts in salience. I’m so far

With whom do you leave yourself during reveries? The one making coffee or doing the driving—

What if I were turned on by seemi… or “extrapolate?” What if I maneuvered conversation… words? Perhaps the excitement would come…

We know the story. She turns back to find her trail devoured by birds. The years; the

Discomfort marks the boundary. One early symptom was the boundary… The invention of hunger. I could use energy. To serve.

spider on the cold expanse of glass, three stories high rests intently and so purely alone. I’m not like that!

You’re it. It is (you are) an error with an arsenal of disguises,

Ventriloquy is the mother tongue. Can you colonize rejection by phrasing your request, “Me want?”

You may “have” sex— but those round sink—holes beneath the off—ramps, scabbed with whatever

There were distinctive dips and shivers in the various foliage, syncopated, almost cadenced in the way